


You Will Always Have Me

by Phoenixflames12



Series: Outlander WW2 AU: Next Generation Oneshots [3]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixflames12/pseuds/Phoenixflames12
Summary: September 1945After her little brother has been acting strangely all day, Brianna finds him in the old tree house and tries to banish his fears about the future





	You Will Always Have Me

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere between chapters 16 and 17 of Vergangenheit

** September 1945 **

Brianna finds William sat in a corner of the remains of the old tree house, hands clutched around his knees, his head buried in his lap so that only a peep of fiery auburn curls are visible.

 

The evening light is dim and dusky, the dying sun pooling against the crumbling corners of ash and elm.  The whorls of old wood are caught in a fire of dappled gold and brown against the shadows, the structure of the house still sound enough to enclose them from the wider world for a time.

 

‘William?’

 

He doesn’t look at her, the bony shoulders shuddering with the weight of supressed sobs.

 

‘William, it’s Brianna. What is it?’

 

Bending low so that she doesn’t hit her head on the crumbling lintel, she slowly crawls forward on her hands and knees towards him, fingers ghosting over the rotten wood for the remains of splinters that had caught under their Da’s fingers, the bite of nails bashed in by their Grandda, all those years ago.

 

 ‘William, talk to me. Please?’

 

Overhead, an owl’s hunting cry pierces the night underlaid by the mournful cries of ewes picking their way across the moor in search of their lambs.

 

Slowly, her heart aching for things that she doesn’t know, she reaches out a hand to him, wanting nothing more than to draw him close and hold him as she had been held as a bairn by both their parents.

 

‘Bree?’

 

Blazing tawny eyes that are swimming with unshed tears blink owlishly at her, his lower lip trembling as he gulps back another sob, dragging the back of his sleeve back across his face.

 

Her heart’s voice cries as she watches him try to master himself, the pale face that is beginning to lose the chubby roundness of babyhood and mould into the high, fine lines of wiry boyhood taut and white, the blazing eyes that he shares with their Mam baring his soul and shutting it up all at once.

 

‘Aye, _mo chuisle,’_ she murmurs, trying to smile for him.

 

Trying to stop the fear that is threatening to crawl over her skin, throbbing in her chest that something is wrong, something is horribly wrong and she can do nothing about it.

 

He has been quiet all day, saying virtually nothing at breakfast or lunch bar asking to be passed something, gaze dancing furtively to their parents when he thought she wouldn’t notice and making himself scarce at every opportunity.

 

He was wrong.

 

She noticed everything.

 

She always had and always would, ever since he had been brought home from Ragimore hospital and she had peered into the pale, barely there features, a chubby finger reaching out to trace the line of his cheek, her heart fluttering as the bright baby blue eyes cracked open out of the red, wrinkled face and fixed themselves on hers.

 

She had known then that he would always have her heart.

 

Had known then that she would always protect him, whatever lay before them both.

 

‘What is it now?’

 

Tentatively, her hand reaches to close around his shoulder, holding his gaze all the while, remembering how she had hung on a gate out to one of the Home Farm fields and watched their Da slowly comfort a kine that had caught herself in loose wire, his voice a soft, low rumble as he had held her head, eyes holding those of the terrified beast and slowly begun to cut.

 

‘It’s…’

 

He sniffs and gulps back another sob, breaking her gaze to fix his firmly on the rotten beams of the ceiling, the ripple of dappled leaves caught with flecks of the fading sky.

 

‘I heard Da talkin’ on the telephone yesterday. I… I ken that it was wrong, that I… I shoulna ha’ been listen’ to him at all, but… I couldna help it an’ I heard… I heard him say…’

 

He stumbles to a tear stained halt and Brianna can do nothing but hold him closer, the weight of his thin, bony shoulder blades pressing against her breast, the tangle of his hair caught under numb fingers.

 

‘Heard him say what, William?’

 

Her voice doesn’t sound like her own as she holds him closer, at once longing for and dreading his reply.

 

Slowly, he pulls himself out of the embrace; fiery eyes blazing back at her, his expression caught with confused anger.

 

‘’That… That he… He and Mam… They want…’

 

‘They want tae send me away tae school. They…’

 

His words seem to drop through him like stones, the after effects rippling out into the darkness of her soul.

 

_To school._

That meant to boarding school and her heart can’t bear it.

_Can’t bear the thought of her little brother who was as much a part of Lallybroch to her as the house and the grounds themselves, not being there._

_Can’t bear the thought of him growing up away from where he belongs, where she knows that he belongs._

_Can’t bear the thought of him growing up without her, sharing his life with strange boys who have no knowledge of the magic that is hidden in the witches’ cauldron, or else to run up to the Broch with and play hide and seek or the best places to see golden eagles in the autumn swooping high above Sgaoileadh Ridge, the tips of their wings burnished gold against the fiery canopy of autumnal light below._

_Can’t bear the thought of him leaving her._

‘I… I dinna want tae go…I… I dinna want tae leave ye or Faith or Mam or Da or Bran…’

 

She almost misses his next words, lost and wet and broken in the wool of her jersey as she pulls him close, burying her nose in his crown of auburn curls, staring fiercely at a strange whorl of wood in a dark corner to stop the tears that are crowding at the corners of her eyes.

 

‘I… I dinna want ye to go either,’ she murmurs back, feeling his shoulder blades judder under her touch.

 

‘Don’t ye?’

 

He pulls back out of her arms and stares at her, searching her face and she nods, biting her lip hard.

 

‘No, I dinna,’ she replies, listening to the whistle and creak of the wind echoing through the timbers above their heads, the rustle of leaves fluttering against the rotten tiles.

 

‘But if ye do go,  _mo bhràthair caran,_ ken that you will always have me.’

 

The words are fierce in her mouth and he nods, a ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

 

‘Promise?’

 

‘I promise,’ she says, unable to stop herself from smiling at the sight of his quirked eyebrow, a sceptic look slowly softening into acceptance.

 

They remain there, curled into each other, listening to the comforting thud of each other’s hearts until Claire’s voice can be heard calling through the gloaming, bidding them in for their supper.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to read and review! Comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms etc are like chocolate to my brain!
> 
> Much love and enjoy x
> 
> Gaelic translation:
> 
> mo bhràthair caran = my dear brother


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